


Phracking Fridays

by PromisesArePieCrust



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, pff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromisesArePieCrust/pseuds/PromisesArePieCrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100-word Phrack drabbles posted on Friday to start the weekend off right!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank the beautiful mind of Fire_Sign for this.

“Hullo, Jack.” She didn't try to hide her excitement. The maid gently clicked the door shut.

“Hello, Miss Fisher,” he said, his lips moving involuntarily into a smile.

“You came.” She smiled wider, inching toward him.

“I did.”

“You don't look too much worse for the wear.” She brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. 

She could count on one hand the number of times their skin had touched. She knew she wouldn't be able to soon.

When he pressed his lips to her inner wrist, she closed her eyes and ran out of thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

She places her lips at his neck, giving it a gentle suck, which is rewarded with a gentle gasp.

Slowly, his hands travel to her hips and bottom, not as if it's a purposeful gesture, but as if it's their natural resting place; they belong there. 

It becomes her turn to gently gasp.

She kisses and nibbles a path to his jaw. She is so deliciously close to his lips, but still too far. To reach any higher, he would need to bend toward her.

“Phryne,” he whispers, hope and longing in his voice. 

“I've missed you,” she whispers back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chicago Phryne and Jack, from [**City that Works**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6065661). Prompt from bill0014, who likes the story, but thinks they should have sex in every chapter. ;-)

She takes a deep breath and holds it, leaning back against her desk, rubbing her lips in thought as she slowly exhales. She looks past him, at the framed commendations on her wall, then directly at him.

“You,” she manages, “are infuriating.”

“You didn't say 'infuriating' as if that is what you are really thinking,” he smiles at her. 

Damn him and his damned smile.

She grabs his perfectly-cut shirt and twists him around, leaning him against her desk.

“It is _exactly_ what I am really thinking,” she growls hotly in his ear, then slides her tongue in his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

In the middle of the day, in the middle of her bedroom, she feels his fingers sweep up her neck, lifting her hair, then the press of his lips below her ear and pull of his arms at her low back. She is breathless. 

She had imagined this, of course. In detail. But as he begins to unbutton her blouse, the desire and anticipation welling, she is struck. She _hadn't_ expected the open, unsure but trusting look on his face. She hadn't imagined how much he was offering her. Nor did she imagine how much she wanted to offer him.


	5. Chapter 5

“This is…”

She can’t finish, her breath catching as he runs the back of his finger over the skin exposed by her partially open shirt. She puts her hand to his, stilling his movements. 

“Yes? This is what?” he asks, and she hears the concern in his voice, that he is expecting to hear “enough” or “not going to work.” She puts her hands on either side of his face and kisses him lightly on the corners of his mouth before offering him an open-mouthed kiss that she pours her soul into.

“Extraordinary,” she whispers, surprised by her gathering tears.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack, naked at last. 

Watching him move closer, she is torn between wanting to _look_ at all of him and wanting to _feel_ all of him. She can’t do both. 

But now he is cradled in her hips, watching her eyes. She nods, and a subtle, well-placed push with his hips puts her in favour of feeling. Far in favour of feeling. 

She closes her eyes, groaning softly, alive. She feels the rhythmic slide of his cock as much as she feels the beating of his heart or the hairs on his chest rubbing her breast. She is living sensation.


	7. Chapter 7

They are moving together with intensity, and she is certainly hallucinating. He is swimming above her, engulfed in colour, swirling red and green lights around him.

He moves in her with long, slow, sure strokes and kisses her as surely and deeply. When she is nearly cracked open, he threads the fingers of one hand through hers, moving her arm above her head. She begins to shake, and feels something thrumming to life between them. It is intangible but substantial... thick, sweet, magnetic. 

_‘I love you... I love you... I love you,’_ she thinks, and realises she has said aloud.


	8. Chapter 8

She returns to earth after her climax, just as he is leaving for his.

He heard her declaration, she can see, but remains guarded in response to it. With a heart full of tenderness, she touches his shoulders, stretches to his ear. “It’s true, Jack, it’s true.” 

She locks eyes with him. _It wasn’t an ‘I love you’ of passionate abandon. It was an ‘I love you’ of truth and depth._

The dampness in his eyes glistens but doesn’t fall. He nods.

His breath and ruts become short and punctuated, and his brow furrows. He is frenzy, mixed with love.


	9. Chapter 9

After the last of his spasms, he rolls to her side. He slowly and gently sweeps his broad hand over her pelvis and mound, as though in tribute.

He shivers as she trails her fingers up and down his spine and kisses his forehead.

After several breaths he reaches up suddenly, swiveling her hip so that she is facing him directly and kisses her in a way one expects at the start of lovemaking, not the end. She feels the cool press of his still-wet cock against her thigh and only just hears his hoarse, whispered “I love you, too.”


	10. Chapter 10

Facing each other on the bed, fingers interlaced and gazes soft, her post-coital euphoria begins to fall away and is soon replaced by too many questions, too many possible futures. She feels panic begin to rise.

He sees her tense, watches her eyes change. 

He doesn’t know precisely what she is thinking, but he has a guess. 

He scoops the tops of his feet firmly under the bottoms of hers, a strange sensation that makes her feel as though she is standing.

“I’m scared too,” he says, touching her face, his voice low and intimate. 

She relaxes. She is heartened.


	11. Chapter 11

They wake from their nap as the winter sun is setting. He rotates his wrist and arm which have fallen asleep, and she slowly turns her neck, stiff from resting it against him.

The mild disorientation of waking and the too early darkness create a morose energy in the room, which she tries to dissipate with a smile that is a little forced.

“It will be cocktails soon,” she sings, “and perhaps a walk--”

He cuts her off with a slow kiss, sliding his arm around her. 

“I don’t want cocktails; do you?” she asks, restless, breathless, kissing him deeper.


	12. Chapter 12

His kisses grow rougher quickly, the timidness of their earlier coupling forgotten, and she is thrilled by his certainty, by the strength of his arms pulling her toward him, by the aggressive scratch of his stubble at her chin, a pique soon soothed by his warm lips and tongue. 

She lets out a groan that reveals a lot; reveals too much, she would have thought earlier. But he already knows she loves him-- she has said so many times now, and it escapes again, a soft whisper on top of her throaty moan. 

Her deep loving, a long-captive genie, unleashed.


	13. Chapter 13

She smiles as she watches him across the room in conversation with other New Year’s party guests, and a warm tingle of new love that is also old love spreads across her cheeks and chest. 

Later, alone with him in her London townhouse, she leans against him on the sofa. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asks, yawning, playing softly with her hair. 

“I wondered about…” she hesitates, growing still, “…inquiring after a marriage license.”

His silence unnerves her until she feels the warmth of his palm slide up her neck and he kisses her until they are delirious.


	14. Chapter 14

She turns her torso, sliding her knee up to face him squarely on the sofa.

He slowly pulls away from kissing her, as though waking from a dream and needing to assess what is real. ‘Are you sure?’ is what his expression reads as he opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses, stroking her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. “What’s the best that could happen?” he asks instead, really listening for her answer.

This she does not expect, and her laugh echoes around them. 

She pauses, responds.

“We fight, love, and grow. That’s the best that could happen.”


	15. Chapter 15

She unhooks her earrings, he slides out of his shoes. She watches him as he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor and unfastening his socks, and marvels at his new name—fiancé. Preposterous. Thrilling.

She hesitates to break the silence, but is really curious: “What are you thinking?”

He looks up, slightly abashed to be caught in reverie, then walks to her. “I suppose I’m wondering when the shock will wear off,” he says fondly as he unzips the side of her gown, his fingers lingering at the skin there, “and, that I love you.”


	16. Chapter 16

The feel of his fingertips at her ribs is surprising, ticklish, and she lets out a low giggle, inching away from his light touch. She turns around to remove the rest of her jewellery. 

She hadn’t intended to bring up marriage; it felt more like a muse had whispered the idea in her ear, and she was relaxed and amenable, so she repeated it aloud. Now, a tiny fear grips her that her feelings for him will change. 

She catches his eyes in the mirror, then smiles, breathes. 

Of course her feelings will change, will mutate. Stagnation is more frightening.


	17. Chapter 17

She sheds her dress and undresses him as she kisses him to the bed. 

They flip positions several times in their heated groping, each trying to lead. At length, she settles herself atop him with a conquering grin. His expression is kind as he strokes the side of her face, softly conceding this round, his heart, everything.

Phryne watches him and feels a shift, a jolt, suddenly also wanting to be allowing, instead of leading. 

He sees her change. “Tell me?” he whispers. 

Ease, openness, love, trust, hope, too much for a sentence, so she works them into a kiss.


	18. Chapter 18

“That’s a dirty lie,” he laughed roughly, nuzzling her neck as they tucked behind a door. She laughed at his uncharacteristic melodrama.

The cocktails their hostess had mixed were noticeably stronger than Mr. Butler’s, and Phryne had been sipping judiciously. Jack, apparently, had not.

“Darling, I don’t say it out of jealousy, I say it because I have _eyes_. Lady Matilda is extremely smitten with you,” she said, swinging with him as he encircled her waist.

“I have eyes too,” he said lowly, letting them drift over her, then settle and sparkle at her.

“You do,” she whispered back, weak-kneed.


	19. Chapter 19

She vaguely hears the door open, but it doesn’t register until he wanders fully into her office late at night to share an insight. He speaks with excitement and exhaustion, his shirt half-untucked in front, his grey-blue eyes alternately focused with intent then unfocused in distant thought. The light shines behind him, giving him a halo, but his eyes are brighter. He reminds her of an enthused saint in an Italian painting--some idea, some dogma, has grabbed hold of him, used him, making him its vessel, leaving him addled and flushed, though eminently content.

She stares. He is delicious.


End file.
